The day after the cookout and fire found Dexter and Casey with the house still to themselves, Liz not due home until the next afternoon. They were in the living room, the television playing an old ‘90’s sitcom quietly across the room, mounted above the stone fireplace. With a heavy, worried sigh, Dexter turned off the T.V. and twisted in his seat so that he was facing his husband. 

“So are you going to tell me what’s on your mind, or do I need to pry it from you?” 

Casey smiled at the gentle command in his voice. He knew it was the way of it sometimes. There had been many times over the years that that was exactly what Dexter had had to do to get him to talk. And there was something about how he was able to read him so well that made Casey love Dexter that much more. “I’ll tell you. I had planned on telling you. I just…needed to think first.” Dexter stayed quiet, allowing him to gather his words and his thoughts. “Last night while Sy and I were standing by the fire,” he looked at Dexter, who nodded in encouragement to continue. “Sy told me that, for several reasons, that he’s going to go back to the…to the camp…that he needed to face it all to be able to move on. He wanted me-well us-to go with him. That maybe facing it would help me move past it, too.”

Dexter nodded, his face unreadable. “What did you say?”

Shrugging, Casey said, “Not much, really. He said that I should see what you think about it. And that he’d understand if I couldn’t go back there. And it’s all I’ve been thinking about since. Do you think it’ll help?”

Dexter didn’t respond right away, taking the time to think about his answer. Similar to Sam, Dexter tried to keep at bay an anger at what was done to the man he loved. With a slow, deep breath, he answered, “Honestly…I don’t know. There’s the possibility it would help. But there’s also the possibility that it might set you back.”

Considering his words, Casey nodded. “It’ll bring a lot back. But maybe Sy is right. Maybe facing it all would be that final step to leaving it behind. Would you think less of me if I said that I’m considering it?” Dexter’s heart hurt at the presence of tears in Casey’s eyes as he posed the question.

“Baby, I could never think less of you for anything. I love you. And I’ll support you and be by your side no matter what you decide. But ultimately, love, it’s your decision. I can’t tell you what’s right for you in this situation. But no matter what, I love you and I’ll be there with you through it all to pick up all the little broken pieces.” He reached up then and wiped away the tears falling from Casey’s face, leaving his hand against his cheek.

“I think I need to do this, Dex. For myself. For Sy. We went through so much together. And I think that I need to do this.”

Dexter nodded, thumbing away more fallen tears. “Alright,” he said with such gentleness that Casey's tears fell harder. “Let him know. When we find out when, I’ll make the arrangements. Hey,” Casey brought his eyes up to meet Dexter’s gaze. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Chapter Fifty Four

It was two weeks later that found the four of them boarding a plane bound for Arizona. The sun had not yet risen above the horizon as they all took their seats on the redeye flight. It did not escape either Dexter nor Sam’s attention that the other two men were much quieter than normal. Not that either of them expected anything less, but that didn’t mean they weren’t keeping a closer eye on them. 

As Sy took Sam’s hand in his own and as the pressure on his hand increased, Sam wondered if they were actually doing the right thing in going back. He had had his own reservations about this trip since Sy had brought it up, but he knew that this was something that Sy needed to do and kept the reservations about it to himself. It scared him to think about what might come of this. He couldn’t help remembering everything that had happened over the last year when it came to Sy and that place and the memories surrounding them. He also wondered what might happen once they got home and everything came to a head. 

He did know, however, without a doubt, that he would always be there for Sy when he needed him. 

Dexter’s line of thinking was much the same as Sam’s as he watched over Casey with worried eyes. He had taken Dexter’s hand as soon as they were seated and thus far, neither had relaxed their grip.

“How you doing?” Dexter asked, leaning over closer to Casey.

Casey shrugged slightly. “I don’t know. I feel a lot of things–too many to pinpoint exactly.” He paused for a moment before bringing his eyes up to Dexter’s. “I’m scared, Dex.”

In response to those painfully whispered words, Dexter wrapped his arms around his husband, pulling him a bit closer. “No one can hurt you anymore.” Dexter brushed his lips against Casey’s forehead as he nodded. Nothing further was said as he placed his head against Dexter’s chest, letting his heartbeat, slow and steady, lull him into a dreamless sleep.

After a quick stop at the hotel, they checked into their rooms, dropped off their bags, and in their rented car, drove to the spot of Sy and Casey’s worst nightmare. At just after ten a.m. they stepped out of the car and onto the grounds that neither of them had ever really walked away from. 

The camp and its cabins had been long since abandoned, the grounds overgrown with weeds and grass that had been for so long neglected in being cut. As Sy looked around, he took hold of Sam’s hand, his grip vice-like. 

“I’m right here,” Sam told him softly. Sy nodded tightly, his breath catching in his throat as he looked around. 

Casey, standing to the left of Sam, stepped closer to his husband, wrapping his arms around Dexter’s right arm, needing the anchor of sanity that Dexter shielded him within.  Without saying a word, Sy led them toward one of the cabins. As they walked, Sam noticed how the cabin they were headed for was separated from the others, with other buildings placed behind it. The wooden door was hanging on a single hinge at an odd angle, giving the impression of falling at any moment.

“This is where they kept us,” Sy said in a whisper so quiet, the statement almost went unheard.

As they walked in, the old wooden floorboards creaked underneath them. The furniture was just as Casey and Sy remembered it being, in the same arrangement as they had last seen. There were many years worth of dust layered on the faux pa, brown leather, and cobwebs hanging from every corner and crevice they could be attached to. The floor beneath their feet was also covered in the same gathering of dust, leaving footprints as they made their way to the stateroom Casey and Sy bunked in.

Both beds were still there, where they’d been the last Sy had seen the room. The bed covers still pushed half-way down the bed. Under and to the side of Casey’s bed, where the rug stuck out from under it, was an old, ruddy brown stain. All sets of eyes were drawn toward it.

“This is where you found me, isn’t it? That’s my blood.”

Sy nodded, his eyes not moving from the memory. “Negal refused to wash or replace the rug. He told me he wanted me to remember that I killed you. That he wanted me to remember I was a murderer.”

Casey, who had been standing close to Dex, his hand captive within his own, moved to where he was standing in front of Sy, his body blocking the view of the stain. Pulling Sy close to him, hugging him with all his might, he whispered brokenly, “I’m so sorry, Sy. I’m sorry.”

Sy returned the grip, matching Casey’s precisely. “I don’t blame you. I’ve never blamed you, Casey.”

“Promise?”

It struck Sy then just how much Casey, at that moment, sounded like the child he had been upon their first arrival. He nodded into his friend’s shoulder. “I swear. Anything he did to us was his fault. And his alone.”

Nodding, Casey sniffled and stepped back, allowing Dexter to pull him gently back into his side. Sam, for his part, kept silent. He could feel his anger beginning to boil and knew that now wasn’t the time to lose control. He took several deep, slow breaths as he attempted to keep himself from boiling over. 

When they exited the cabin, Sy silently made his way to the next that was placed to the right and slightly behind the cabin they’d just exited. When they reached the door, Casey stopped. His chest tightened and his breath drew short, making him feel slightly like he was beginning to suffocate. “Sy, I don’t think I can go in there.”

Turning, Sy gave him a small smile that was full of saddened understanding, his voice barely above a gentle whisper. “You don’t have to. If you need to stay out here, no one will think less of you.” Without another word, Sy entered the cabin, Sam close at his heels.

The state of this one was much like the last. Decorated with cobwebs and dust, everything else remained the same, if not rundown. The projector hung from a single rope, lopsided now with tears in the canvas. Two sets of shackles hung off two chairs, accompanying ropes hanging from above.

Outside, Dexter stood with Casey as he warred with himself about going inside and continuing this self-torture. With his arms around Casey, Dexter held him close, feeling each ripple vibrating through his frame. He could feel the warm tears soaking into his shirt, but he paid it no mind, his only thoughts on the man in his arms. As Casey stepped back, Dexter’s arms dropped, but their hands then linked as Casey looked back to where Sam and Sy had disappeared to. With a deep breath, he began to slowly walk toward the threshold before stepping inside entirely. He heard Sy speaking quietly to Sam as their eyes adjusted to the darkened cabin.

Sy fingered the ropes as he began to speak. “He’d tie us up here with the ropes. Or shackle us to the chair. He’d put on gay porn and punish us when our bodies responded to what we were seeing with the strap or the prod. So many times after he’d send Casey back to the cabin we lived in, he’d keep me here. He’d tie my wrists to the ropes above my head and he’d…” Sy’s eyes watered and tears fell unnoticed in his telling. “He’d molest me or he’d…he’d rape me.”

“Sy…” Sam’s voice was strained with held back fury and equally held back tears. But whatever else he was going to say was interrupted as Casey began to speak, walking further into the room.

“I knew–or at least suspected anyway what he was doing to you.” Sam and Sy each turned toward the sound of Casey’s voice, the sun silhouetting them in the doorway. “But I didn’t know what to do. Or who I could tell. Who I could trust outside of the four of us.” Casey stopped in front of Sy, his eyes sad over his helplessness for his friend he couldn’t protect back then.

“Outside the four of us, Casey, there was no one to trust.”

“You never actually told us.”

Sy shook his head. “I never told anyone.”

Casey looked around then, unable to maintain his friend’s gaze, his eyes stopping finally at the chairs in front of him and the ropes hanging from above. Dexter stood close by, however, far enough back to allot Casey any space he might need. Touching the chair that he was so often restrained to, he said, “This is the chair he’d tie me to. I never saw their faces…but I remember their hands all over me.”

Then, with a great cry of unadulterated rage, Casey systematically began destroying the artifacts of a hellish, previous life. Pulling on the ropes, they came down, snapping at the places the ropes had frayed over the years. Picking up one chair, the nearly rotten floor boards coming with it where the legs were sat, smashed the one next to it, causing Sy to jump back for the fear of getting hit with flying debris. As the pieces landed and what was still in Casey’s hands hit the ground, Dexter was there beside him, pulling him once more into his well framed chest, his sobbing muffled but clear as he clung to his husband.

Motioning toward the door with his head, Sy followed Sam outside, giving the two of them a moment to allow Casey to calm down without their watching him. Dexter’s arms were tightly wrapped around the other man, wanting to protect him from this pain and knowing there was little he could do for him right now. “Let me take you back to the car,” he said in a pleading whisper.

Stepping back and wiping his face, Casey shook his head. “No. I’m seeing this through. There’s only a couple of spots left.”

Cupping his wet cheek against his palm, Dexter asked him, “Why are you doing this to yourself? You’ve come. You’ve faced it. Let me take you back to the car.”

“No, Dex.” Casey’s voice was firm even as it wavered. “I need to do this.”

Dexter sighed heavily, but he didn’t argue further. “I don’t like this. But if you’re sure.” And without another word about it, he followed Casey back outside where Sy and Sam waited. Silently, Casey took Sy’s hand and together they turned as one and headed to the next place of their personal torture.

As they made their way to an empty field, the wind blew, raising up the smell of wild onions. Sam and Dexter stopped several feet away from the other two, watching closely. They were out of hearing range as Casey and Sy talked quietly to each other, their hands still locked together in silent support.

“Do you remember that day with the gun? When he told me to kill you.” 

Sy nodded. “I remember.” Knowing Casey had more to say on the subject, Sy said nothing else, his grip tightening on Casey’s hand.

“I pulled the trigger.”

“He had a pistol pointed at your head,” Sy countered instantly. “You didn’t have any other options, Casey.”

Not paying any mind to his words, Casey kept talking in a low, strained voice. “I would have killed you if that gun had been loaded. I’ve never forgiven myself for that.” His face twisted in an expression of great pain. A pain that went soul deep.

As Dexter watched his lover’s face contort and as tears began to fall harder, looked at Sam. “Should we go over there?”

Sam shook his head. “No. Let them talk. Right now they need each other more than they need us. We’ll know when to go over there.”

Sy studied his friend closely before he spoke, his spirit saddened by the circumstances they had faced so many years ago. “Have you ever told Dex about that day?”

“I’ve never told anyone about that day. I would have killed you, Sy.”

Sy took a step closer, bringing Casey’s eyes to meet his as he framed his hands gently around the younger man’s face. “But you didn’t. It was just another measure to break us down. He knew exactly what he was doing. What choice did you have? The gun he had was loaded…and pointed at your head.”

Shrugging, he said, “I could have just let him kill me.”

“I’m glad that you didn’t.”

Casey took a shuddering breath, his eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to look at his friend. “I’m sorry, Sy. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you had to find me. I’m sorry it was my fault that it got even worse for you.”

Sy shook his head emphatically. “Casey, no. None of it was your fault. None of it. Is that why you tried to kill yourself?”

“He broke me that day, Sy.”

Sy pulled him against him, Casey’s wails increasing at Sy’s words. “It wasn’t your fault. I never blamed you. It wasn’t your fault. I love you, Casey. It wasn’t your fault, alright?” He nodded into Sy’s shoulder, but didn’t offer any further commentary.

It was then that Sy looked over to where Sam and Dex stood several feet back. “Come on,” Sam said and they each made their way over to their men. When Dexter came close enough, Casey turned and clung to him, his arms wrapped around his neck as his shoulders continued to shake from the outpouring of bottled emotions. 

Dexter met Sy’s eyes when his hand lightly gripped his shoulder. “Have him tell you about the day with the guns.” Dexter frowned in confusion, but nodded and tightened his grip around his husband. He’d thought that Casey had told him all the major events that happened here, at least, a long time ago. He knew there would be things that he would never know. Small details that he’d never be purview to. But he knew that this was something big. A game changer from back then that Casey couldn’t bring himself to mention. 

Guns? He knew he’d find out soon what had happened and attempted to prepare himself for whatever it was. Though he had a feeling that there would be no amount of preparation that could adequately prime him for this upcoming knowledge.

Sy looked at Sam, his face drawn and tired. Sam offered him a small smile. “There’s one more place and then we can go back to the hotel.” 

As they walked away, Casey and Dexter stayed put, Casey still wrapped in Dexter’s arms before Dexter pulled back. “Let me take you back to the car,” he requested gently. Casey nodded into his shoulder before he let go, took his husband’s hand and allowed Dexter to guide him back to the rented car the four of them drove up in. 

When Sam looked up once they reached the final cabin, he saw a large, looming steeple, topped with a golden plated cross towering above it. Sam’s gaze was drawn downward to Sy as he grabbed his hand and squeezed hard. “Don’t let me go, Sammy.”

Sam returned the grip to Sy’s hand as he said, “I’m right here.” Sam watched Sy as micro-expressions danced about his face. Sam didn’t rush Sy’s movement as they stood in front of the slightly ajar door. He simply kept his grip on Sy’s hand and breathed, attempting to keep his own anger and building emotions at bay. It wasn’t about him or what he was feeling and he knew well that he had to keep himself under control for Sy’s sake.

Without another word, Sy pushed open the door and they entered. The room was well lit, despite the lack of electricity. Each wall to the west and east was covered in windows that spanned five feet in length and three feet across with every other window stained glass. On either side sat four rows of white plastic chairs, a red carpet stretched up the aisle, leading them to the altar where before them stood a giant crucifix. 

“This is where he’d take me to be cured. Where he took all of us to be cured.” Sy looked down as they reached the steps leading to the altar. A small, blue, tassel pillow laid on the floor. The layers of dust covering it gave it a grayish hue. “He’d make me strip to my underwear and I would kneel here…on this pillow. Strangers…men and women both…they would just…touch me. Not sexually, or anything. But they’d surround me and their hands would be all over me. 

“They’d scream and chant for the devil to leave me. They’d just scream all around me…I felt like I couldn’t breathe…and touch every bit of exposed skin they could. For hours. It went on for hours, Sammy. And when they’d finally leave, he would…he would…” Sy looked at the man standing next to him, his stalwart and his rock. His eyes were glassy with unshed tears and for the first time since they’d arrived, Sam could see that it was finally getting to him. As tears rolled down his cheeks like rain on a windshield, he whispered, “Why did he do that to me, Sammy?”

Sam shook his head slowly, his chest tightening at not only the images being scanned into his brain by Sy’s words, but the location in which they stood. Both the chapel and the property. “I don’t know. An evil man doing evil things.”

“He’s here more than anywhere else. I can almost feel him all over me.”

Still holding his hand, Sam drew Sy close to him, wrapping his arms around him tightly. “It’s just us here, baby.” Sy nodded into Sam’s chest as an anguished sob escaped him. As Sam felt Sy’s bodily quaking increase, he shushed him gently. “I love you. He can’t hurt you or anyone else anymore ever again. Leave him here, Sy. This is where he belongs.”